Fourteen
by S.E. Mellark
Summary: AU. "Hey, Arthur? You remember when you told me that there are some things I'll instinctively know about myself? Well, I know that if circumstances were different, you'd be my type."


_A.N. _So, we were talking about Nathanial Hawthorne's "The Sister Years" in English and the idea to write this struck me. The concept was intriguing and kinda played into Hetalia a bit, so I decided to roll with it. This is sooo bad, and I'm very sorry, but I figured I might as well post it. Thanks for putting up with me ;)

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Hetalia and I most likely never will.

* * *

"Hi."

Arthur blinked, shifting his gaze from the tranquil scene the nearly desolate park offered him to observe the young man who appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He was young – younger than Arthur ever was – white, blond-haired, and grey eyed, sporting most of the traits that had become the norm in most recent years.

The kid looked damn near spotless, wearing a vintage-looking bomber jacket over a plain white T-shit, jeans, and converse sneakers. He was radiating such a nervous yet excited air that Arthur was forced to wonder if he looked just the same way to Francis last year, like a fresh spirit, as naive as a newborn baby, unaware of the hardships he would face with the coming year and unable to fear the unknown just yet.

It was because of the newcomer's obvious confusion and expectant gaze that Arthur was certain the time had come, and the green-eyed man sighed. "You had little trouble finding me, then?"

"Um, I guess." The man said, and his colorless eyes somehow managed to sparkle with youth behind the smudged lenses of his glasses. Arthur couldn't bear to look at such life and turned his gaze back to the dead, crooked branches of the trees in the clearing. "I don't really… know why I'm here."

"That's quite alright. I don't expect you to understand everything right away. That's the purpose of today. Tell me, where was it that you awoke?"

"I think I woke up in… Time Square?" Fourteen – Arthur decided he'd refer to the other man as such for now – said slowly, looking to Arthur for confirmation, who nodded. "I just started walking and didn't stop until I found you. Is that normal?"

Arthur shrugged, pushing himself to his feet only to find that Fourteen was a good two inches taller than him. Wonderful. "Francis was the one who came to find me, and he never shared his experiences with Ludwig with me, so I wouldn't know."

"Ludwig? Francis?"

"Twenty Eleven and Twenty Twelve, respectively." Arthur clarified as a group of children skirted around the two men, casting them odd glances, as if able to sense that something was different about them. Arthur wondered if Fourteen noticed how the children only looked at Arthur. "Well, I suppose we should get going. This is my last day on earth, lad, and you've been assigned as my chaperone."

Those were the words Francis used on a newborn Arthur last year, slinging an arm around his shoulders and breathing wine-scented breath into Arthur's face. Francis Bonnefoy spent his last day on earth mostly drunk, barely giving Arthur any of the necessary information he needed as the New Year and instead reminiscing on all the women he'd slept with throughout the twelve months of his life, all the women he'd been forced to abandon.

Arthur remembered feeling hopelessly confused and unprepared by the time 2012 came to a close in London, quietly sitting by while his predecessor drank himself into a stupor, and Arthur couldn't imagine doing the same thing to Fourteen.

"Sure thing, dude." Fourteen said, not looking quite as dazed, and Arthur winced, none too surprised that he'd already picked up on American lingo. He was born in its streets after all, and while his entire being would be influenced by happenings a world over, at Fourteen's core, he'd always be American. "I… think I'd feel better about this if you told me your name though."

Arthur smiled as best he could – it wasn't much, considering how exhausting the year had been – and extended a hand to his successor. "My name is Arthur Kirkland. I'm the year Two Thousand Thirteen."

* * *

After making a quick stop at Arthur's apartment, the two men set out for their leisure day around New York City. As minutes and hours ticked by, Fourteen's confusion and awkward demeanor started to melt away, and Arthur realized that the New Year wasn't as quiet as Arthur had initially expected him to be. He was American, after all.

Fourteen was an inquisitive one, and while Arthur had somewhat hoped for a more… _reserved_ partner for his last day, he couldn't say that he didn't find the man's exuberance somewhat endearing. Fourteen honestly wanted to know everything, and Arthur was all too happy to oblige him.

The reason for their existence was lost in time, though Arthur could only assume that the personifications of the world's many years held some significance in the grand scheme of things. Each New Year seemed to always be born in a different country. Distance had nothing to do with the birth of another Year, and it was up to the previous Year to find his or her successor on the last day of December.

Arthur lived most of his life in London, unlike Francis who traveled far and wide in his short life. For some reason, Arthur never felt compelled to pack everything the world had to offer into twelve short months. Perhaps it was his cynical side reigning supreme, convincing Arthur there was no point in pursuing anything if he wouldn't be around long enough to truly enjoy it, though Arthur had no regrets.

Born with the knowledge of where the next New Year would pop up, Arthur made the decision to move to America in mid-September, wanted to live his remaining months in peace without worrying about making it in time for the start of 2014.

"You uprooted your life just to come and find me? That doesn't seem very fair."

Arthur laughed, unsure how to feel about the fact that Fourteen was seemingly upset on his behalf. "London was far more enjoyable than New York, that's for sure. But then, if I'd stayed, you still would've been born here, and neither of us would've been able to find one another before the year ended."

"I guess that makes sense." Fourteen said, observing the happenings of the café they're frequenting. He realized earlier on in the day that since it wasn't technically 2014 yet, the humans couldn't see him. To them, Arthur was talking to thin air, just some loon with unkempt eyebrows sitting by himself in a booth. His charming British accent would do him no favors in that situation. "Hey, quick question. How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

"Twenty-three?" Alfred didn't look convinced, if his blatant observation of Arthur's overall features was anything to go by. "No way."

Perhaps on any other day, Arthur would have felt offended, even if he wasn't quite certain if Fourteen assumed he was younger or older than twenty-three. He'd always had an impressive temper that only seemed to worsen as the year wore on, but today, he felt calm; as if he couldn't muster the necessary energy to be upset over anything. "I believe I was physically seventeen when I was born. But I started aging sometime in late February, maybe early March."

"You aged a whole six years in just twelve months? Was the year really that bad?"

"Six years is nothing to be upset over. Previous years have had it worse. Nineteen Forty Four was born nineteen and was seventy-three by the end of December, the poor woman. While mostly abstract a concept, humans make real years past by remembering significant events. It only makes sense that those events would take a toll on us, be it physically or emotionally."

Arthur paused, taking a moment to smile warmly at the two women sitting at a table near them, watching Arthur as he talked. They went about their own business when they realized he'd noticed them, whispering quietly amongst themselves. "Anyway, enough about that. If you concentrated, you could figure out how old you are. You're obviously younger than I am, so there's that."

"You sure?" Fourteen said, amused, though he furrowed his brow in concentration. "I'm feeling… nineteen. Wow, guess you were right. Wonder how old I'll be come next December."

Fourteen's expression looked a little lost for a second, catching Arthur by surprise; however, the waitress appeared then, interrupting any attempt Arthur might have made to lift Fourteen's spirits, though perhaps it was for the best. Compassion had never really been Arthur's forte. "Your coffee, sir." She said pleasantly, setting the off-white mug down in front of Arthur.

"A British man drinking coffee." Fourteen drawled. "Never thought I'd live to see the day."

"I have many different cultures infused within me, so don't be so surprised." Arthur chuckled. The poor waitress blinked in confusion, flitting her gaze back and forth between Arthur and the seemingly empty seat across from him. She looked young, just a teenager, and was having difficulty hiding her feelings of unease. "Are you looking forward to the New Year?"

The young girl jumped slightly when she realized Arthur was now speaking to her, and Fourteen snickered quietly behind his hand. "Um, yeah, I kinda am. This year was a really long one, don't you think? I can't wait for a fresh start."

Arthur sighed, resting his elbows on the table. "That it was, though I am a little sad to see it go."

The girl nodded, finding some reason or other to make her escape, and Fourteen had removed his glasses and was wiping tears from his eyes when Arthur focused on him once more. "You just love fucking with people, don't ya?"

"I wouldn't phrase it so crudely, Fourteen. I don't normally do this sort of thing, but I just can't be bothered today."

"Fourteen." The other man repeated, frowning to himself although there were still tears of laughter in his eyes. "How come you get a human name and I don't? Not to be a dick, but that's pretty shitty."

Arthur understood that perfectly well, for he'd thought the same thing when Francis walked around all day referring to Arthur as "_Treize_" and nothing more. "Your name will be up to me."

"Huh?"

"I have to give you a name that I think best suits you before the day is over. It's the only job I'll ever have."

Fourteen blinked. "What, you didn't work this year? What the heck did you _do _with yourself?"

"Well, the heads of every country know about what we are. They make sure none of us want for anything. The President of this country is aware that you were to be born here and has made the necessary arrangements for you. You'll take up residence in my apartment for now, and a representative will come for you within a week to take you down to D.C. Everything will work itself out from there."

"Damn. You really took care of everything."

Arthur looked away, glancing out the window to observe the New Yorkers walking to and fro, talking on their cell phones, laughing with friends, kissing a lover. They were all so optimistic for a change, elated at the prospect of the "fresh start" they always loved to go on about.

He'd often wondered how many of them truly bought into it, if it was really the notion of a better tomorrow they were drawn to. Once they realized they had to actually work for the change, that it wasn't something that happened in the transition from one year to the next, most humans gave up, and they blamed the year for their troubles.

Arthur didn't really understand humans, though he was still amazed by them, almost couldn't believe how resilient they were; but then again, they didn't even know the magnitude of the damage they caused. "Of course I took care of everything."

* * *

While Arthur's mood remained calm and consistent throughout the day, Fourteen's only worsened.

It had become obvious to Arthur that Fourteen's core was easygoing and kind, if not a little on the immature side at times; but above all, Fourteen was smart. If he were human, the population wouldn't hesitate to call him a genius, though Fourteen seemed to keep it under wraps, his intelligence only showing in the rare moments when he actually put some thought into the things he said.

But intelligence came at a price, and that became apparent to Arthur after the sun went down, when the clock struck eleven-forty and Fourteen began to realize that his hour was fast approaching.

The streets were buzzing with life, the humans screeching and hollering to one another, some carrying glow sticks or even cell phones with the brightness turned up all the way. All was mostly dark in Arthur's small apartment, the rooms illuminated by whatever light managed to seep through the windows and the few candles Fourteen had wanted to light on his own.

Arthur didn't much care to watch the festivities and chose instead to sit on his couch with a cup of Earl Grey, the last he'd ever have. He spared a glance at Fourteen every so often, who'd taken up residence in front of the window and was watching the humans in the streets below, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

At around three in the afternoon, Fourteen had stopped caring about sight seeing and asked if they could retire to Arthur's apartment for the remainder of the day. Arthur, who found himself shockingly unable to deny the New Year anything, agreed to spend his last hours on earth in the comfort of his own home. He wasn't bitter about it, not in the slightest, and had only assumed that Fourteen would much rather run around New York and soak it all in. Oh, how wrong he'd been.

"What were you doing sitting at a park bench at nine-thirty in the morning?"

Arthur jumped slightly, almost spilling his tea all over himself. It was the first time Fourteen had spoken in nearly four hours. Truth be told, Arthur had almost forgotten what the other man's voice sounded like. "What?"

"The alarm clock in your room is set to go off at eleven, again at eleven thirty, and again at noon, every day. I'm guessing you're not a morning person if you need to be forced to get up that late, and three times at that. So, if your first alarm doesn't go off until eleven, what were you doing awake and at the park before then?"

Arthur wasn't sure what to say. Fourteen was starting to become acclimated to his role if he could remember what time they'd met that morning even though there hadn't been a clock around. "I don't see how that's important." Arthur said after a moment. "I just couldn't sit around here all morning."

"Why not? I would've found you anyway, right?" Fourteen turned to face him, and Arthur was stunned by how startlingly blue his eyes were, no longer a dull shade of grey. The eyes were truly windows to the soul, and Fourteen had apparently found his, the same hue as Francis' had once been. Arthur's stomach churned nervously. "Were you too nervous to sleep? Was that it?"

Again, Arthur was at a loss for words, but Fourteen didn't give him a chance to reply. "What's the point of all this? You don't work, you sleep all day, and you let the humans walk all over you. Is that how things will be for me? I'll just wake up one day, twenty years older, and realize I wasted my entire life? What's even the _point_ of our existence if we don't do anything important!"

Fourteen's azure eyes reminded Arthur of an ocean – they were certainly as wet and as furious as the sea surrounding the island nation Arthur had been born in, and the man felt an ancient pang of homesickness, though he really had no home to begin with. Fourteen turned to look at the clock, scoffing to himself before closing the curtains viciously, tearing the bar from the wall completely and impassive when it clattered to the floor.

Arthur could've laughed but understood that Fourteen wouldn't appreciate it, taking one last sip of his tea before setting the cup down on the coffee table in front of him. "You and Francis are too much alike."

"The fuck does that mean?"

"Well, he was overly vulgar with his language, for one, though I do suspect you get that from me more than him." Arthur stood from his seat, raising his arms above his head in a stretch. Fourteen continued to watch him, only angered by Arthur's nonchalance. "You know, I'm most _definitely _not a morning person, and if you were to meet me on any other day, you would know that I don't let the humans walk all over me. Ask any of my neighbors. I'm a downright bastard on a good day, because being nice means forging relationships with humans that I'll be forced to abandon in the end, and unfortunately I've too big a heart for such things.

"I don't work because Francis did nothing but work. I sleep in because Francis never slept in. You want to know why I was up before my alarm went off?" Arthur inquired, finally looking back to Fourteen, whose jaw was somewhat slack. "I was in the park because Francis never let himself be still. His entire life, he was so afraid of dying that he ran himself ragged, trying to pack so much into so little time, and when the end finally came, he drowned everything out with liquor and did nothing to prepare me for my year except give me a name."

There was a flash of light outside the apartment, followed by the sizzle of fireworks – premature ones at that – though neither man batted an eye. "You are just like Francis, though it took him an entire year to get to where you are right here, right now. You both think too big and worry about things that are beyond your control. You just… have to _be_. Is that so hard?"

Fourteen's shoulders shook, and Arthur pitied the man who was already afraid of death when his life hadn't even begun. Arthur crossed over to him, grabbing onto Fourteen's wrists and pulling him away from the window, away from the clock. "Francis had it so bad because he never really found his purpose." Arthur said quietly. "I don't think our reason for being was lost with years. I think it's been this way since the beginning of time. Our purpose as Years is to actually _find _our purpose, and unlike Francis and maybe Ludwig and countless others before them, I actually realized what it was."

"And what's that?" Fourteen asked, and his expression was downright miserable. Gone was his sparkling newness from earlier that morning. Any feelings of calm he might have had during the day left him when his eyes turned blue, but Arthur had a feeling Fourteen would be back to his core self once his year started.

"Well, this may be considered cheating, but I feel as if we've all suffered long enough." Arthur stated, releasing Fourteen's wrists and reaching up to wipe away the man's tears instead. "Francis was so concerned with himself that he never gave much thought in regards to me. I don't begrudge him that, because I do understand. He prepared me dreadfully, and that made me realize I didn't want to do the same to my successor, whoever it may have been. I may have 'wasted' my life for Francis, but I did it for you as well, so I wouldn't leave you as lost as he left me."

"I don't – "

"Like I said in the café. My one and only job, my purpose if you will, was to pave the way for you."

Fourteen's eyes widened the slightest bit, and Arthur smiled ruefully, swiping his thumbs across the man's face once more before releasing him completely. "Stay put." He said sternly when Fourteen lurched slightly. "I'll be right back."

Leaving Fourteen alone in the living room, Arthur slipped into his bedroom and opened the drawer of his bedside table, pulling forth he small notebook he kept near the back of the drawer. "This was probably ridiculous of me," Arthur began as he made his way back to Fourteen's side, who was wiping away the remnants of his tears furiously, "but the idea hit me a few weeks into January. I say to just let yourself be, but I can't say with certainty that your year won't be stressful. So, I made this for you."

Arthur offered the notebook to Fourteen, who took it hesitantly, staring at the thing like it was going to bite him. "What is it?"

"There are three hundred and sixty-five entries. I had to make up for the lost January weeks so there was one for every day. I wrote about everything, which mostly amounts to nothing. Busy or not, take the time to be still in the coming months. Honestly, I don't expect you to read – "

"I will." Fourteen said quickly, glancing from the notebook to Arthur and back again. "It'd be rude of me to just… put it away somewhere and then forget about it. You didn't have to do it, but then again, I don't think you know how much this means to me."

Arthur shrugged, averting his eyes and thankful that it was too dark for Fourteen to see the red that was most certainly staining his cheeks. "It's not as if I had anything better to do."

Fourteen laughed, bending down to set Arthur's notebook on the coffee table. Encouraged at the shift in the other man's mood, Arthur allowed himself to smile. "I managed to come up with a name for you in the hours you spent ignoring me."

"Sorry." Fourteen said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to make your last day such a melodramatic thing. I wouldn't blame you if you named me something stupid."

"Come now, I may be a bit vindictive, but I'm not heartless." Arthur scoffed, sparing a glance at the clock just over Fourteen's shoulder. _11:55. _Time sure flew when one was having a beginning-of-life crisis. "Alfred Foster Jones. Alfred means counselor. Foster derives from forest or woods, and Jones is a pretty generic last name in America."

"That's… a bit of a mouthful." Fourteen – _Alfred _stated, though he looked as if he might cry again, as if Arthur's decision could have made or broken him. "I might introduce myself as Alfred F. Jones, if you don't mind. Did Francis put much thought into your name?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Arthur means bear or something of the sort. Francis said I looked like one, though I'll never know if he said it because he was drunk or if my eyebrows made him think so. Not sure where he came up with Kirkland. I suppose it doesn't matter now."

Alfred made a slight noise of discomfort. "I don't want you to go."

"That's the thing about Years. We never really go anywhere."

Alfred looked confused at that, intellectual and very nearly alive but still just a few minutes shy. "Hey, Arthur? You remember when you told me that there are some things I'll instinctively know about myself?"

"That was just this morning, Alfred. Of course I remember. What, did you realize something?"

"Well, I know that if circumstances were different, you'd be my type."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, though no words would come out no matter how badly he wanted them to. Alfred looked fairly pleased with himself, though something in his expression was sad. Arthur snapped out of his stupor when the clock read _11:58. _"Well," Arthur coughed out, reaching out to grab onto the lapel of Alfred's bomber jacket, tugging the New Year closer, "is the knowledge of a New Years kiss stored somewhere in that big brain of yours?"

"Um, yeah… ?" It was Alfred's turn to blush now, though Arthur took no amusement out of it.

"The humans took that ritual from us. The New Years Kiss is something we have to do, much like how I had to give you a name. If you have any doubts now, they'll be gone after. In this way, I'm passing on all my knowledge to you."

"You make it sound so unromantic." Alfred was pouting, and the humans were starting to holler and chant outside. Arthur's heart started to race, out of fear or adrenaline he wasn't quite sure, but Alfred saw it all the same, stepping closer to Arthur. "What, are you breathing your soul into me?"

"Something like that." Arthur admitted, and Alfred looked vaguely horrified before Arthur started to lean up. He stopped just shy of Alfred's parted lips, emerald eyes darting up quickly before looking away again. "I hate to leave you on such a note, but I feel the need to tell you that, if circumstances were different of course, you would be my type as well."

And Alfred surged forward before Arthur got the chance to, sweeping the shorter man into his arms and holding him tightly, as if his abnormal strength were enough to keep Arthur in his physical form; and it hurt, in more ways than one. Arthur's kiss with Francis hadn't felt like this at all. That one had been short and chaste, merely a routine that Francis had forgotten about until it was almost too late.

Francis had wanted to forget, but it seemed as if all Alfred wanted was to remember, and to Arthur, that made all the difference.

* * *

When the clock struck twelve, Alfred Foster Jones opened his eyes to find himself completely alone in the small apartment; but while he couldn't see Twenty Thirteen anymore, the New Year found that the man's presence wasn't any less real, no less meaningful, and Alfred somehow managed to smile despite the nagging feeling that he'd just lost something important.

So long as there was a New Year, Arthur wasn't really going anywhere, and Alfred decided he could live knowing that.


End file.
